


As I Crumble

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: After weeks of tension, Vince's temper boils over.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	As I Crumble

"Oh, fuck you." 

Technically speaking, this was tame, compared to the other fights that the group has had over the years, but there was a venom in Nikki's voice and a flare in Vince's eyes that suggested that the argument would soon turn physical and Mick was really, _really_ too old for this kind of shit. Nevermind that they needed to come together, just this once, to put the pieces of this godforsaken album together, these two were going to be the death of him. 

Vince sneered, face twisting in his anger. "That's the best you can come up with? No wonder Crüe is failing, maybe somebody else should write the lyrics." He said, and if Mick had the energy to get up, walk over to the younger man, and smack him, he would've. Instead, he just put his head in his hands and counted backwards from ten, a tool he had utilized several times over the years. Usually, the numbers helped Mick, calmed him. 

They didn't work, mainly because the voices were rising in the telltale beginning to yelling. Tommy sighed and put on his headphones, blocking out the argument and turning away. Mick considered doing the same, but _somebody_ needed to break the argument up if they started using fists instead of words. 

Sometimes, Mick wondered if he lived in a zoo. It was the only reasonable explanation for the amount of fights that took place weekly. Seriously, you'd think that they'd be able to pull together and record a few fucking songs, but they weren't even mature enough for that. 

"Oh, please. You're hardly any better than I am." Nikki said, practically shaking as he stood on the other side of the room. Mick was pretty sure that the younger man was high, because he was much more amped up then usual. Or maybe the fight was angering him more than it really should've. Either one was entirely possible at this point. "Oh, here's an idea." Nikki clapped his hands together sarcastically, eyebrows rising to his bangs. "Why don't I leave, and you write all these fucking songs and play the bass? Just so you can show the world how talented you _are."_

Vince tossed his hands up, his eyes taking on a manic gleam. "Go ahead! Nobody even fucking _likes_ you, Nikki. Leave, nobody will notice a goddamn difference." 

It was hardly the worst thing that had ever been said between those two. Mick had heard them, knew that they could be much more vicious and cruel, but for some reason, Vince's words seemed to cut far deeper than usual, and Nikki stiffened, his lethargic shivers cutting off like a switch had been pushed. Eyes dark, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. 

The door slammed. 

Mick sat there for a minute, the aftershocks of the loud noise ringing in his ears, wondering if he should've just become an accountant or something like that. A job that was boring and didn't involve people slamming doors on a daily basis. 

With an irritated sigh, Mick pushed himself up and out of his chair. He was always, without fail, the one to preform damage control. It was his job, but he always hated it. "Thanks, Vince." Mick said dryly, not bothering to look back as he, too, stormed out. 

Dramatic? Yes. But Mick could feel his irritation morphing into anger, and that was never a sign. He wasn't a volatile person, no, he left that to his girlfriends, but there were limits, especially when tensions were as high as they were now.

After years of experience with such things, Mick knew that Nikki had disappeared into his bedroom. The door was locked, and there was an odd sound coming from the other side. Nikki wasn't somebody who expressed his emotions freely, but Mick had been around him enough during times of distress so recognize the sounds of uncontrollable sobbing that was muffled, like Nikki was pressing his hand against his mouth to try and control himself, or just to not alert others to his mental state. 

It made Mick angry. 

Again, this was a rare state for him to be in. Mick was the calm one, the mediator. He was the oldest, after all, and it was just part of his personality. 

Calm, collected, in control. 

"Nikki." 

Mick paused, considered his words. Even though it hurt his back and was just generally uncomfortable, Mick sat down on the ground, resting against thin wooden door that separated them. The floor was cold and hard, and probably the worst idea Mick had made in a while, but he persisted. "Nikki, I know you're very upset right now, and that's okay, but Vince was just angry. You know that. He got angry and said something that wasn't true." Mick said, but the words felt fake on his tongue. 

It was true, that Nikki wasn't the nicest guy in the world, or the easiest to get along with, but Mick knew he was the one that people didn't like. He wasn't young, or attractive. He wasn't energetic or any of that, he was just...Mick Mars, and his talent was his one weapon against humanity. 

Pushing his insecurities away, tossing them back into the deepest, darkest depths of his mind, Mick cleared his throat. "People love you. I can see it when they look at you, like you're a god." He sighed. What were the chance that Nikki was even listening to him? The sobs were still there, and the bassist sounded tired. Mick could relate to that. It was their only similarity, really. "There's people who are gonna hate you. That's their problem. You can only focus on the people that love and like and respect you, understand?" 

There was no sign that Mick's words were getting anywhere. It was no surprise, but it certainly was a disappointment. "Listen, Nik. You know where to find me, okay?" He got up, wincing at the pain in his back, before making his way back to where the other two were. 

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, except for the absence of a certain bassist. Vince was in a mood, but this wasn't anything unusual. 

Tommy seemed to be concerned, judging by his frequent glances at the door that didn't budge. "Are you sure he's fine?" Tommy whispered when Vince went to go use the bathroom. Mick just shrugged because, in truth, he didn't. 

For all he knew, Nikki was overdosing in the goddamn bathtub. 

That night, as Mick undressed in preparation for a fitful sleep, there was a certain feeling of alone. Trying to balance a work life and, well, a personal life with his bandmate wasn't easy, especially when it was a secret to just about everybody. 

Tonight was usually the one they spent together. 

Mick treasured these nights, times where nothing else seemed to matter but _them._ When the struggles of addiction and the past fell away, disappearing, if only for a few hours. The bed felt terribly empty when Mick slipped underneath the covers, and the night seemed to stretch on as he lay there, awaiting to be taken by the mistress of sleep. 

He didn't hear the door creak open, and tensed slightly at the feeling of the bed dipping and a body settling behind him, but it was a familiar body, smelling of a recognizable cologne and something else that lay just beyond identification. Damp hair tickled Mick's chin, and, usually, it would've brought irritation because now everything would get wet but it didn't matter. 

"Hey." Mick said. He could feel Nikki's nose, buried in his neck, and feel the shivers as the younger man burrowed close, seeking warmth and maybe comfort. "How are you?" He asked, though the answer to his question was obvious. Nikki stayed silent for a rather long minute, long enough that Mick wondered if he had fallen asleep. Maybe that would be for the best. Feelings, and talking about them, wasn't Mick's forte. 

But he was wrong. 

Nikki sniffed. "He was right. I'm a fucking jerk." He mumbled, slender fingers clutching Mick's arm and, if not for the utter seriousness of the situation, and the desperation and sorrow that seemed to cling to Nikki's voice, then he might've laughed. 

"Of course you're a jerk." Mick rolled onto his back with a grunt. Nikki frowned deeply, but he didn't pull away when Mick raised his hand and entangled his fingers in Nikki's hair, caressing it slightly. "But that's your thing. I couldn't imagine you being nice." Mick would probably think that he'd died and gone to some twisted purgatory if Nikki started being nice. He wouldn't like it in the slightest. Mick tried to discern a facial expression, but Nikki's face was a blank slate. 

Mick hated blank slates, because he had to fill in the lines.

Life was complicated enough as it was. Mick just wanted simplicity, but supposed that he'd asked for unreasonable chaos when he first signed up to play guitar for these people. Add in drugs, alcohol, sleep deprivation and women, and you've got a recipe for goddamn disaster.

Nikki shook his head firmly, face pale in the darkness of the room. It was a wonder that he could look so convinced about something that didn't really matter. "Nobody _would_ care. I'm a shitty bass player. I write lyrics for songs that end up in the gutter. I look like a wannabe vampire." He was practically listing things off of a list in his mind that never ended.

Mick moved his hands so that he was framing Nikki's face, staring deep into dark eyes. "You're beautiful." He said truthfully, "You're a great bass player, and those songs? They just aren't hitting right. I'm ready to get that they're gonna be hits in a few years. If anything, we should be saying these things about me." Mick shrugged, not bothered by it much. Nikki huffed, looking irritated, "You are amazing. Your exes are just bitches." He said. 

Well, that was just common knowledge. Mick didn't bring up the fact that their agent felt the same way, that Vince and Tommy probably felt it, too, but knew that saying it wouldn't go down well.

"He was _wrong._ Vince is just stressed, you know that." Mick enunciated each word, trying to get the point across. Nikki shook his head, and Mick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He pulled the younger man down, kissing him softly, but making it chaste, pulling away a minute later. " _You_ are loved. And if Vince truly thinks that, well, he's an idiot, then. Because I love you. And you know that I don't just toss those around." 

Nikki's face twisted, and he went to pull away, but Mick reached out and secured his fingers around bony wrists, holding him firm. "Let me go." Nikki muttered, head down, trying to break free. The words seemed to have had some sort of effect on him. "No. You're not running, not now." Mick said, hopelessly aware of how ridiculous they must've looked, but also aware of how fast his heart was beating and how suddenly the world seemed to have stopped spinning. 

Mick held strong, and Nikki stilled, his chest rising and falling rapidly, hair falling into his face, torn up inside over stupid things and Mick just wanted it all to stop. 

_Just fall apart, Nik. I'll put you back together._

And maybe that was a bit hypocritical, because Mick refused to let his vulnerabilities be seen by anybody but himself, but it didn't matter. It truly didn't play a part in this grand scheme. 

Nikki closed his eyes, his shoulders beginning to shake. Mick pulled him close, feeling Nikki's heart beat steadily against his own, listening as the bassist sobbed like a child, years of frustration and hurt and pent up emotions were let out. Mick rubbed his back and buried his face in Nikki's hair, staring at the wall and knowing, in a distant way, that this was the barrier that had yet to be broken. 

There was no telling how long it took for the sobs to taper down.

Gasping for air like a man drowned, Nikki clutched a fistful of Mick's shirt and took a shivering breathe. Mick kissed his forehead in an oddly tender show of affection and smiled, trying too make a little light on this darkness. "See?" He whispered. "Isn't that so much better than crying alone?" 

They'd both been dealt the wrong hand in life. God hadn't spared them, and the weariness in their gazes told the story. So did the scars. 

But there was a solace in their mutual embraces, and a promise in their breaths, and a silent reassurance that whenever one of them fell, the other would be there to catch them. 

Nikki uttered a short, breathless laugh. "You're too good for this goddamn world, Mick." He said, and Mick wanted to say ' _so are you_ ' but didn't, and instead relished in the peace. Nikki kissed him once and then curled close, listening to the crickets, content in their mutual devotion.


End file.
